


His Father's Son

by abstract007



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa, महाभारत | Mahabharat (TV 2013)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 18,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstract007/pseuds/abstract007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Mahabharat is the world renowned Indian epic, greatest in length and complexity of human condition of its characters. It exemplifies the greatest qualities of man by creating highly dynamic characters. Perhaps the most empathized character of them all is Karna, The Charitable. </p><p>Karna represented the epitome of friendship, loyalty and sacrifice. He struggled against the restrictive divisions of society that would deny his skill of any recognition, simply because he was raised in a lower caste household. Unknown to all, he was born of a princess of one the greatest dynasties in the land. On top of that, he was sired by the Sun God, Lord Surya Himself. </p><p>Through fate, he was forced to side with an evil man, the Kaurava Prince Duryodhana, who accepted him as a warrior and as a friend. It was this single act of kindness that cemented Karna's loyalty to evil. Though a good man himself, he blinded himself to all the evil of his friend out of loyalty. Even on the cusp of the greatest of wars, he refused the rule over the world itself by Lord Krishna, knowing that he and his sons would perish in the war. Out of duty, he knowingly fought his own brothers and spared them, only to be struck down by deceit.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. His Father's Son - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Mahabharat is the world renowned Indian epic, greatest in length and complexity of human condition of its characters. It exemplifies the greatest qualities of man by creating highly dynamic characters. Perhaps the most empathized character of them all is Karna, The Charitable. 
> 
> Karna represented the epitome of friendship, loyalty and sacrifice. He struggled against the restrictive divisions of society that would deny his skill of any recognition, simply because he was raised in a lower caste household. Unknown to all, he was born of a princess of one the greatest dynasties in the land. On top of that, he was sired by the Sun God, Lord Surya Himself. 
> 
> Through fate, he was forced to side with an evil man, the Kaurava Prince Duryodhana, who accepted him as a warrior and as a friend. It was this single act of kindness that cemented Karna's loyalty to evil. Though a good man himself, he blinded himself to all the evil of his friend out of loyalty. Even on the cusp of the greatest of wars, he refused the rule over the world itself by Lord Krishna, knowing that he and his sons would perish in the war. Out of duty, he knowingly fought his own brothers and spared them, only to be struck down by deceit.

The archer kept his eye on the orb. His hands were bleeding. His arms cried with exhaustion. His mind was numb to the entire world and its woes.

In the training barracks of the Hastinapur, all was silent but for one blindfolded boy, keeping an arrow drawn to a sound of a floating silent orb that circled the archer and let out a soft hum. The art of shooting a target by sound alone; it was the ultimate test of an archer’s senses. Dusk had fallen and the entire camp had been dismissed to the gratitude of getting a hot meal and a warm bed. All his friends had left to crumple into their beds to shed the aches of the day’s training. His teacher had been called away at the last minute and sent a simple order; practice this technique of sonic targeting.

And so, the archer kept his target.

The moon and the stars soon lit up the sky, bathing the campground in a soft light, as if beckoning the boy to let go. The archer, however, had a radiance of his own that fought to keep him alert. The sentries and the weapons master did not disturb the boy for they knew that he was under the personal tutelage of the general of Hastinapur and the greatest living archer, Arjun. Even attempting to do so might turn their own sounds of approach into targets.

It was not until the early hours of the next morning that the rising soldiers gathered to a commotion. In the middle of the training field, the same boy from yesterday followed the orb and shot an arrow every time it let out a sound. Everyone maintained a distance from which they knew the archer could not hear them.

Soon, two men rode into the camp and the soldiers were filed into ranks by their drill masters for the morning inspection by their generals, Arjun and Bheem, the two younger Pandava brothers of Emperor Yudhishtir, the newly crowned king of Hastinapur. Both men carried an air of authority and power, which was expected from the finest warriors of their generation. They soon noticed the boy in the field, keeping his target and rushed to his side. Cries leapt up from surround soldiers warning them that the boy seemed possessed and would probably target them as well. Bheem, the giant of a man, stopped in his tracks and whispered something to his younger brother, holding him back. Arjun, however, smiled and continues walking towards the boy until he stands face to face. The archer recognizes his teacher’s footsteps and holds back his arrows.

Arjun takes a quick record of his pupil and is stunned. The boy’s eyes are blank, long having fallen unconscious, and his body held up by pure will.

“No…What have I done? Look at you! Barely awake and still determined to prove yourself.”, Arjun cries and takes the boy in his arms, “Your lesson is complete, son. You have achieved your goal. Lay down your arms for now and rest”, says Arjun and the boy collapses into his arms with satisfaction on his face. Bheem summons the medics and some cadets to the rush the boy to the infirmary. Arjun, too, starts to follow but notices the target orb full of arrows absorbed over the last day and the bow coated with the boy’s blood. Tears soon start to flow from the general’s eyes with a smile spread across his face. Bheem, towering over his younger brother, has no need to ask and lays a gentle palm on his brother’s shoulder.

“The boy followed my command to the letter and then some. He endured the trial by sheer strength of will. And that smile…I saw that odd smile of satisfaction on a warrior’s face right before he died at my hands.”

Bheem echoed the same sentiments, “Eldest brother would proud today. He is truly his father’s son.”


	2. The Brave or the Fool?

Vrishketu woke up in a small tent with medics and complaining soldiers bustling around him. He recognized the infirmary for he had ended up here on more than a few occasions in the course of his training. The smell of blood and the aches of wounded men filled the air.  
He hobbled up from his bed and felt a sudden dizziness.

“And where do you think you are going? When will you Kshatriya buffoons realize that stunts like the one you pulled yesterday only make my life harder!”

He turned around and saw a greying old man in the garb of a medic. With a broad smile, he came up to him and gave him a quick hug. “I salute you, Vrishketu, son of Karna. People are still talking about your achievement. You were practically comatose when they brought you in. If your wounds were any deeper, your fingers would have been rendered useless. After all, even my healing herbs have limits!”

The boy paid his respects, “Your words honor me, Master Healer. I train knowing my life is safe in your capable hands.”

“Your teacher came by to check up on. Prince Arjun left instructions for you to report to him as soon as you are able.”

“Very well, sir. Thank you once again for your healing. I promise to keep my visits to a minimum.” chuckled Vrishketu and left the infirmary, making his way around the camp.

The commander’s tent was easily spotted with its bright large banners bearing the standard of the kingdom and its allies as well as the personal standard of a thunderbolt of Prince Arjun himself. He made his way across the camp, carefully avoiding the trains of cavalry and chariots, and greeting the odd soldier who trained with him long ago. The sentry at the gate told him to wait and announced him inside, waving him in after a few minutes. When he stepped inside, he saw his guru and the Crown Prince Bheem which was not uncommon. He paid his respects to both men and was about to inquire about his requested presence when something else suddenly caught his eye in the corner. A middle aged woman sat in a chair, observing him with a keen eye. She was a beauty by all accounts with a face that radiated fire and passion, but there was a calm sadness to her eyes. It seemed as if she had just borne the fatigue of a long struggle had caught up with her. Those eyes reminded of his own father’s eyes for they had a similar fire and melancholy.

Arjun was relieved to see no lasting damage to his pupil and only nephew. He dismissed the rest of his staff and looked his student in the eye with a grim face. He purposely avoided mentioning Panchali as per her request. He would be lying if he said that he was not curious about Panchali’s thoughts of him. She was an excellent judge of character and next to Vasaudev Krishna, the only one he trusted to analyze his nephew for the stability he would need to handle a very difficult conversation with his teacher.

Vrishketu was wary of this strange woman but paid his respects to her as per custom. Her regal postures and dress indicated she was likely one of the general’s queens. The fact that his Guru Arjun had not introduced the woman did not escape him and so, he decided to wait for his teacher to explain her presence.

“Come in Vrishketu, I see you were cleared by the medics. Your actions yesterday were extraordinary to say the least. My own Guru Drona would probably have praised this dedication. I, however, am NOT guru Drona. You were lucky not to have permanently lost your hands. Why did you not stop at dusk like everybody else?”

“Because you ordered me to train until I mastered the art, Gurudev. Only a teacher can judge a student’s progress. So I trained until you could judge me to be perfect.”, calmly replied the student. Flawless logic, almost something Emperor Yudhishtir would say, thought Arjun.

And before his rebuke could continue, Bheem interrupted with a loud roar of a laughter, “Well said, boy, well said. My brother forgets but I remember him training just as hard when he was your age. Spare him your lectures today, Arjun. He has learned his lesson. Haven’t you, Vrishketu?”

“I am not sure, Prince Bheem. But I would welcome ANY lessons from my guru, even if they are harsh words.”

With these words, Arjun’s face lost its grim façade. He beamed at the boy and gave him his instructions for the day.

“Very well. Then I amend my orders for you to never extend your training past the dusk unless I absolutely say so. If you are going to act like a stubborn ox, the least I can do is make sure you do not go maiming yourself with your own weapons. Pretty soon, we will proceed to the next phase of your training with the divine weapons. Take care, Vrishketu, these weapons can only be wielded by a focused mind but they do not tolerate fools. The world does not need brave men who cannot think for themselves. The Mahabharat war was a result of three great warriors, including your own father, who willingly numbed their minds and their own free will for their duty. I may be your teacher but I am not the master of your free will. No one is. Considering the plans for the sacred ritual by the king, my brother, we may be called to action very soon. Are you still insistent on joining me on this campaign?”

The mention of his father’s name jolted Vrishketu with the cold truth of his father once again. He knew his teacher’s rebukes were always mixed with praises and lessons.

“I am at your service, Gurudev Arjun. It has been my good fortune to receive your tutelage even though I am suta-putra and a son of your greatest enemy. Please let me accompany you on the Ashwameda yagna protection detail. Let me atone for my father. I ask for this honor to prove myself as your worthy student, to shed my blood in battle and if need be, lay down my life for you. “

He was surprised at his own eloquence. It was as if his father’s memory had spoken for him from within. The effects, though, were not as expected. As those last words were uttered, a chill blew the tent. The Pandava brothers and Panchali became ashen faced momentarily and regained their composure almost as quickly.

“Ye…Yes, well, it’s not a good sign to talk of one’s own death before a battle. Go ahead and make the preparations. I’ll join you and the other captains soon.” Arjun spoke with a grave voice.

With that, Vrishketu was dismissed but not before overhearing his master asking “Is he ready?”


	3. On the way home...

He could still remember the great war of Kurukshetra. He could remember his family getting ready for war and bidding him and his mother goodbye. His brothers were eager to prove themselves and earn their glory but his father knew better. 

Karna, disciple to Lord Parshurama, sibling-student to Lord Bhishma and Sage Drona, was a veteran fighter and knew well the horrors of war. His eyes were full of melancholy. Karna, the Charitable Warrior had somehow known that he would not return. Before leaving, he had taken his wife, Vrushali and Vrishketu to a place out of earshot and told them something that seemed almost peculiar at the time.

"When this war ends and if we do not return, this world will become your new family. If you can, try to forgive them and accept them."  
The last words of Karna to his wife and youngest son had sounded almost prophetic.

His mother had stood in silent acknowledgement with grief pouring out of her eyes but he still pondered its meaning. When news of his father's death had reached home, his mother had committed Sati, the ritual self-immolation of widowed women.

More than a few men had blamed his father for the innumerable deaths and more still defended. His family was even targeted a few times by relatives of the fallen soldiers. A royal household patrol had defended his family for a short while until the world calmed. When asked, the soldiers would not speak as if they were sworn to silence. Eventually, they were told that this protection was being extended to the families of all war-leaders on both sides but he still held his doubts. Only a royal decree from the noblest family in the land could have sent their personal household guards with a vow of silence to protect a charioteer's house.

Lost in grief, while he was trying to come to terms with all the death in his family and take care of his aging grandparents, he resolved to sign up for the new army. In this new world order, he would defend other families just as how those soldiers had defended his own in that post-war chaos. 

It had appeared as a cruel twist of fate to fight in the same army that had killed his family but his father's last words seemed apt in this situation. And so, Vrishketu, son of Karna, one of the most hated enemies of the Pandava victors, soon rose through the ranks of the Pandava army to become the prized pupil of Prince Arjun himself.

At first, he was apprehensive as to whether he should accept training from a man who had a lost a son to his father or someone who had personally killed 3 of his own brothers and his own father mercilessly by deceit. He had preferred to learn all he could from the other weapons masters in the army. Soon, he had surpassed even them.   
His skills did not go unnoticed and the general himself propositioned to train him. He told him that he needed an able right hand man and in exchange, he would train him in the advanced military arts. Perhaps he expected this education to be some form of karmic balance for his deceit against his father. The soldier had fully expected the archer general to treat him with the same disdain as his father. However, the Pandava prince was surprisingly warm towards him and often treated him like a son instead of a subordinate or a student. It was this affection that ultimately won him over. 

However, the words that had echoed as he had left his teacher's tent raised his suspicions of a missing element. This was not the first time that he had noticed this. Many of the royal family's members in the army spoke in hushed tones in his presence, giving him a polite but wide distance.

The Pandava brothers, including his own teacher, held back a font of emotions in his presence as if their words would kill them like some divine curse. His grandparents had outright refused to speak about this or his family's enmity with the Pandavas, making the issue seem even elusive. It was these hushed whispers and their mysterious secrets that unnerved him more than any trial of arms.


	4. The Accord of Truth

A train of chariots had approached Champanagri that day. This would not raise any interest among a community of charioteers and horse keepers but these were no ordinary chariots. For most who lived there, they bore the royal family of Pandava brothers, their mother and queen. But for the family of Karna, they were seven repentant souls. They had come bearing the ashes of their eldest brother and nephews. Each earthen pot weighed like a mountain in their hands and their every step was marred by doubt.  
A frail old couple came to receive them at the gates. The brothers and her queen bowed before them placing the earthen pots at their feet. They remained prostrate before the couple, terrified of matching eyes with them.

“There is no need for the Kings of Hastinapur to bow before their subjects. I thank you for delivering my son and grandsons to me. They should rest with my daughter in the holy river” said the old man, Adiratha.

It was then that Yudhishtir spoke up, “We come seeking your forgiveness and justice, Father and Mother to our Eldest. Please do with us as you see fit.”

“What can the likes of us do to the likes of you, Elder Pandava? My son died to keep you all alive. My grandsons died protecting the Kauravas from your arrows. Now, my daughter-in-law is dead, consumed by the grief of losing her sons. I curse the day we met your Kuru clan!” said Radha, her voice breaking with grief and hatred.

Draupadi winced, having felt the deaths of all her sons. It had only been Vasudev Krishna’s consolations that kept her sane.

“And what curse do you have for me, Radha?” asked Kunti, stepping forward. “I am a sinner to you and my sons. I, too, submit myself before you.”

It was then that Radha started laughing madly. They feared having driven Radha to insanity as well but suddenly, Radha looked Kunti in the eye with a venomous glare.

“You cursed yourself the day you discarded my son, noble queen.” cried Radha, “My family has paid the price in blood to keep your prestige intact. Whenever your sons will call you mother, you will feel the sting of betraying your eldest every day of his life. I will not curse you, Lady Kunti, if only to honor my sons’ last promise to you. Go away, slayers of my family. I will not let you poison our lives anymore!”

“Please leave, King yudhishtir. Vrishketu will soon arrive and your presence will be difficult to explain in an already trying time”, asked Adiratha with folded hands.

It was as if lightning had struck all the Pandavas upon hearing Vrishketu’s name.

“You mean one of our nephews lives? One of Eldest’s sons still lives?”, asked an eager Arjuna.

Adiratha replied, “Yes, Prince Arjun. He was too young to fight in the war so Karna sent him away to Anga to maintain the peace. News of the war must have reached to him by now.”

“So this child will return to find his mother passed away as well? We must be here for him. It is too much for anyone to handle!” cried Bhim.

“NO! You will not speak to my grandson without our leave. You will not be here when he returns. If you had any respect for my son, then accept this. Your presence will only confuse the boy”, this time, Adiratha was standing against the Pandavas.

“But he is the heir to the throne. Surely you will tell him of his divine lineage” asked Arjun.

“And what else do we tell him, Prince? That his father and his sons suffered the world’s insults without reason? That my son went to war knowing he would die at your hands? Or that Radheya let his own sons, the boy’s elder brothers, die at your hands unavenged to keep his promise to your mother? No, my king. My grandson has suffered enough. He has borne the agony of losing a loved one nine times over. He must suffer it once more for his mother and that will be the end of it” said Radha

This time, it was Yudhishtir who spoke and anyone could see the gears moving behind his expression, “We will respect your wishes, Noble Father and Mother. Vrishketu will not be approached by any of us. I will even amend my curse so that you can keep the truth from him, Mother Radha. However, he should not have to struggle the same way Eldest did to prove himself in this world. Would you agree to let us accept him if he finds us on his own?”

“And I will teach him all that I know of the battle arts. I will instill the warrior’s code in him” said Arjun, silently adding ‘May he follow it better than I did’.

Draupadi too could not contain herself, “We will give him the love that we could not share with our own brother and slaughtered sons. I promise you that he will know the truth only when is ready for it.”

The old couple considered this for a short while and agreed to these terms.

The charioteer’s home was soon emptied of its royal guests who kept a silent vigil from afar. 

A heart-wrenching scream was let loose that night that haunted their dreams for years to come.


	5. To Grandmother's House

There were two truths to life in the lower caste towns of Hastinapur; poverty and simplicity. The people embraced the honor of a simple life in their poverty and learned to be happy from it. Champanagri, a suburb of Hastinapur settled along the river Ganga, by the suta caste charioteers and bards, was home to a similar people.

All that began to change when a baby was found floating down the river Ganges one day by a couple, Adiratha and Radha, praying to the holy river for a child. Their reward was a radiant boy with golden bio-armor and earrings, set adrift in a makeshift basket, covered with finest silks. The couple knew its meaning. Death by exposure was a cruel way of disposing misbegotten children and the silks meant that this child was surely of some royal household. By all rights of nature, this child should have perished beneath the river’s waves but fate had other plans for him. The couple thanked the gods for their good luck. Surely, it was divine patronage that had protected the child. Little did they know that the holy river had only saved the child for an even more terrible fate.

The royal charioteer was overjoyed that day on his prayers being answered. He ran around the town spreading meager gifts of gratitude and stuffing sweets in the mouths of all who came across him. His wife, Radha, however was lost in the bliss of newfound maternity. Posterity would know their son as Karna, The Charitable. The world would know this boy as a suta-putra, an upstart warrior sworn to evil. The parents would know their son only as Radheya, Son of Radha.

The beaten path that snaked from the holy river through his hometown of Champanagri was once well travelled. The war had robbed even the small towns of sons and daughters. Now, only the echoes remained of those who once tread the same road that Vrishketu walked on. He stopped to observe a small group of old men and children resting under a tree.

A new generation was now emerging. The old men gathered beneath trees and told tales of heroes that had gone before them. They spoke reverently of Devavrata of the Terrible Oath, Guru Drona – Master of Divine Weapons, King Dhritarashtra The Blind King, Gandhari The Dutiful Wife and Suyodhan – Eldest to 99 Kauravas and his fall to become Duryodhan. Interestingly enough, the tales of the Charitable Warrior always confounded the young ones.

Questions arose,“How could one emulate such a flawed hero? Could he be even called a hero?” and the elders had no answer to them. Vrishketu almost laughed at this. Even he himself still could not understand the truth behind his father’s actions. He almost pitied the elders for the difficult position they were in.

He went on to a dwelling that was modest by all accounts. Built out of wood by his great grandfather, charioteer to the royal family before Adiratha, he was proud to call it home. Its ancient great courtyard had seen countless memories of his family. Boys had trained here in the chariot driving and martial arts. Courtiers from Anga had been regularly received by his father here. It's silence was a solemn reminder of the joys it had witnessed.

“Are you back from training, child?”

He turned around to see an old woman standing at the entrance. The passage of the years showed on her wrinkled face and gray hair but she still stood proud and defiant. She carried a water pot in her arms and beckoned him inside.

“You have grown thin, boy. Come, help me take this water indoors and let’s get some food in your stomach.”

“Where is grandfather? I have not seen him in weeks.” he inquired after paying his respects.

“Adiratha has been called away again. It seems they always need him for something at the town council these days.”

The king’s new policies of reconstruction had laid new plans for every able bodied man and woman in the kingdom. Although controversial, they distributed great power and responsibilities in the hands of local councils instead of a single royal court. Many in the royal households had feared this change but the common people had embraced it wholeheartedly. Since Adiratha was one of the most experienced men alive in the town, he had been invited to sit on the ruling council of elders.

Vrishketu helped her get the food prepared and they soon settled into a serene silence. She knew the questions that burned in his mind but this was not the time to answer them.

“How is your training progressing? I heard something about you collapsing during training.”

“It goes well. I will soon learn the celestial weapons.”

“Oh...” Grandma Radha had always been apprehensive about divine instruments. They had been begged and stripped away from her son when he needed them the most, “You know I do not like to hear of those weapons, boy! Do not speak of them again, at least not before me.”

He was stung by her words. “I apologize, grandmother. I forgot about your hatred for the warrior caste.” Divine weapons were a significant last milestone in becoming an Atimaharathi, the greatest of warriors. It meant a great deal to him that his grandparents should share in the fruits of a lifetime of hard training.

She smiled in turn, “You are a fool, son. I do not hate warriors or the knowledge of weapons that they hoard. My son and your father was the best of them, after all. What I hate is that all young boys want to be great warriors before becoming great men.”

This raised a questionable look from Vrishketu.

“I will explain later. But come, let us finish eating first. We can speak further outside.”

The impending conversation with his grandmother hastened his appetite and he wolfed down the remaining meal. A few moments later, they were both sitting in the verandah, enjoying the shade.

“It is a beautiful day today. Your father used to love sitting in the sun where you are right now. Most men seek the shade but your father loved the sunlight, even on the hottest summer days. It is the perhaps the only joy of his life that I could never understand. “

As far as he could remember, like his father, Vrishketu had never felt the scorching heat of the sun on his back. The glow of the sun always comforted him during his daily prayers to Lord Surya, The Sun God.

“Yes, it made visits quite uncomfortable for all the visiting dignitaries.” They both chuckled at that fond memory of bureaucrats from Anga’s court squirming under the sun in their king’s house.

And so, he reminisced for a while enjoying the simple pleasures of his grandparent’s home.


	6. The Greatest Quality

Grandmother Radha spoke for a long time about her sons and grandsons, the uncles and elder brothers of Vrishketu. He listened with rapt attention, absorbing every detail of his father’s life. She often pointed to the different areas of courtyard that were witness to the milestones of her progeny.

While he was always eager to listen to these stories, Vrishketu yearned to hear the truth of his father’s life. He wanted to know what it was that turned a bright radiant boy into a warrior bitter with life. He wanted to learn of the curses that gave such a deceitful death to an invincible warrior. Every time he tried to ask these questions, his grandparents evaded them.

His grandmother read the anguish clearly on his face and interrupted her story, “You humor an old woman but I cannot help you with your questions, son. My grief has lessened from our talks so I will tell you this. We cannot divulge what you want because this truth is far too cruel. It turned my son into committing the ultimate sacrifice and you are not yet ready for it.”

A lie had poisoned her son’s life and his heart so much that in the end, it was too late to be cured. She had sworn to never let that be her grandson’s fate.

“How can I move on, grandmother, if I do not even know the reason my father even sacrificed his entire family for? You say I should emulate my father’s humanity before his skills as a warrior. But all I have ever known are his military exploits. The only respect he ever received were for strength in arms and his charity. And even then, no one speaks of what motivated him to give so much away?” and then he realized he had spoken out of turn. His grandparents were still grieving. They needed a grandson to support them, not pester them even more. 

“You are right in a way, son. Alright, let’s try something else then. What is the greatest quality that you think your father represented? His philanthropy? His skill as a warrior? Or something else?” she asked with a cunning smile.

“I do not know, grandmother. How can I value one good quality over another?” This conversation was beginning to raise even more puzzles in his head.

“Understandable, but then tell me, what is the greatest virtue in the world? Surely, we have taught you that much.”

At this question, he flashed back to the time his father had come back from a meeting with Lord Krishna. He still remembered that lesson well.

“Truth. Nothing in this world is superior to the truth. Those were father’s words to us before the war. He made us pledge that we would never hide the truth, no matter the cost.”  
A broad smile flashed across her face, “Indeed. The truth. Whatever the truth may have been, you should find comfort knowing that your father faced the truth of his life head on. Consider his life: the entire world believed that suta caste cannot wield weapons but your father sought the truth of this and made it manifest. He embraced it and that is why his name is still respected today despite being aligned with Duryodhana.”

Although his mind still raced with questions, there was some ease to his tension.

His grandmother continued, “Truth can be beautiful or bitter depending on how it is revealed. In our family’s case, it was beyond terrible. That is why I want to spare you its pain for now. In time, it will be revealed to you. ”

And when the time comes, your heart will be filled with so much love that it can absorb any bitter poison fate that can throw at you, the aging grandmother thought silently.

The arrival of his grandfather broke the reverie between the grandmother and grandson. He paid his respects to his grandfather and the evening’s following conversations became a blur. While Adiratha was no fool, he could not surmise the reason for the new radiance in his grandson to which, his wife had asked him to simply accept at face value.

Vrishketu took his leave to return back to his camp. This visit to his grandparents had raised some new questions but he felt relieved to know that his father’s greatest quality would be revealed to him in time.


	7. The Task

It had been months since that enlightening evening with his grandparents. The kingdom was in full preparation for the Sacred Horse Ritual, the ritual that would declare Hastinapur as a power once again to its neighboring kingdoms. Expected to help in the defense of the sacred ritual horse, Vrishketu’s training had been accelerated and months had gone by in a blur of endless lessons and exhaustion.

That morning, he reported as usual to the teacher’s tent for his daily assignments and lessons. As he was waved in, he said the proper greetings and awaited the various subordinates to be discharged.

Arjun waved him to a chair, “It seems running an army has become more mundane than I remember. Well, I have a special task for you today. You remember the lady who was with Brother Bheem and I a few months ago? Do you know who she was?”

Vrishketu declined to answer. Although he had his suspicions, he chose to keep them to himself.

“Ah, well, she was our Empress, Lady Draupadi.” Arjun wound have needed a heart of stone not to laugh at his student’s startled reaction. Vrishketu had always envisioned the Princess of Panchala as a haughty, arrogant woman who had denied his father out of spite for his birth. His first sight of her had revealed quite a difference.

“My lord, I will count myself blessed to have been in her presence. May I assume that my task has to do with her?”

“Correct. As you know, with the sacred yagna being performed at Indraprastha, we have to move the royal family there until it is completed. Ideally, we should all be here to welcome Lord Krishna but the queens must go ahead to the second capital to see to the arrangements. My brothers and I are busy with other dignitaries so you have been asked to escort her and a royal entourage of ladies to Indraprastha. You will have a full contingent of warriors as support, of course.”

“Gurudev, I thank you for your faith. The Empress and the other queens will reach Indraprastha safely, this I promise.” He saluted his teacher and turned to leave when the sentry announced the arrival of King Yudhishtir and the Twin Princes Nakula and Sahadev.

It was turning out to be a day full of surprises. He bowed as soon as the king entered the tent flanked by his twin younger brothers. They were all garbed in fine silks and exquisite crowns studded with gems. Vrishketu always wondered how royalty could move or even think with such heavy ornaments weighing them down. Even his own father had detested these elaborate fashions, especially after his far more austere upbringing. It almost explained the continued absence of Gurudev Arjun from the palace, if only to avoid such trappings for the simpler battle armors.

The king spoke to Arjun first regarding the security arrangements for some visiting king when he noticed the boy who was still kneeling before him. A flash of recognition swept across his face, “Rise, child. Anyone worthy enough to safeguard my wife need not bow before me.”

Vrishketu arose and noticed a familiar discomfort on all their faces, oddly, even on the king who was known for being the most stoic man alive. All three of these men had suffered defeats at the hands of his father and in turn, had killed more than half of his family.

“I thank you for your faith, Your Majesty. I will not fail you. Please excuse me for I must see to the readiness of my contingent.” The king nodded and gave him permission to leave.

With a quick bow, Vrishketu left the tent as fast as his legs could carry him. It was not until he had reached his own tent that he let out a muffled cry of anguish. He recited one of his father’s lessons.

“Anger is an eternal enemy but not invincible. Defeat it, channel it but never embrace it.”

He had thought his own hatred for his father’s enemies defeated but this visit had dredged those memories back up. The dying cries of his elder brothers screamed in his head and he sought release from it with the Sun. Barking some orders to his subordinates, he left for the banks of the Ganges. Sitting there under meditation, his hatred started to ebb away and his mental barriers became fortified once again. It took hours before he could once again attain his usual mental serenity but he knew it to be a temporary measure. He started back towards his men and the task that awaited him.

Meanwhile, in the General’s tent, the twin brothers questioned the wisdom of Vrishketu’s assignment.

“Do you doubt the skill of my student and our nephew, Nakul? He may not have all the knowledge of the divine weapons yet but he is still an exceptional archer.” spoke Arjun with a hint of pride in his own instructions.

It was not Nakul but Sahadev who answered instead, “It is not his skill but his maturity that I question. He is still a young lad, prone to passions. You say he has forgotten the past but you saw his hatred clear as day on his face. He needs more time to heal before we entrust him with the life of the woman who openly insulted his father.”

“I would not have suggested this without Panchaali’s permission. She and Subhadra want to meet the boy and he will be forced to spend time with them without any excuses. And as far as passions go, do care to remember that he was Eldest’s student before mine. He is disciplined enough not harm a woman placed under his protection.”

“And what discipline held the Eldest’s tongue from insulting our wife in an open court? Oh wait, it didn’t!” cried Nakula.

At this, the emperor finally spoke, “ENOUGH! That is the last time you will ever speak of Elder Brother Karna disrespectfully, Nakula. That goes for you too, Sahadev. You say Vrishketu cannot let go of his past but I see the same hatred in both of you. Have you forgotten that the child does not see us as his uncles but the murderers of his kin?”

It was the first time that the king, known for his calm nature, had ever used such an angry tone with anyone, let alone his brothers who were now cowed enough to hang their heads in shame.

The emperor regained his gentle voice and with his usual composure almost as quickly, “Remember that we must fill that boy’s heart with love before he learns the bitter truth. Draupadi and Subhadra can give him the mother’s love that he lost with Sister Vrushali’s death. Establishing a rapport between them is an excellent first step. Let us pray that we can bring our last remaining son back into the family.”

At a distance, Vrishaketu prayed for the success of his assigned task but for entirely different reasons.


	8. The Mourning Mothers

The royal procession of the queens of Hastinapur would be secure from all dangers. Vrishaketu had personally overseen every detail of the journey from the loading of supplies to the surprise inspections of the royal guard. His inspections had been so thorough that the guards had invented new names for him, most of them never to be repeated within his earshot. Every member of the royal entourage and guards had been thoroughly vetted and checked for assassins or any unexpected personnel.

He did a final inspection of all the chariots and supply trains, then proceeded to the palace to get the journey started. Stopping outside the Empress’ chambers, he asked the chamberlain to announce his readiness. They would be able to leave whenever the royal ladies wanted to. He fortified himself for a long wait to hear back but was surprised to hear a very odd request. The Queens Draupadi and Subhadra with the Dowager Empress Kunti were asking to meet him inside the Empress’ chambers. It was a strange request since the rules for entry into the queen’s chambers had been made stricter since the days of infamous Dice Game. Technically, only a close male relative could be allowed admission into a royal woman’s chambers, which made his own audience all the more unorthodox.

He followed the servant inside to a very lavish hall. The king and his brothers certainly liked to keep their wives happy, he though wistfully. Making his way through scores of ladies-in-waiting, he could feel the eyes of all these people at his back. He readied himself for what was bound to be a very interesting meeting.

He was brought to a small grove inside the palace grounds grown specifically for the queens. Arranged in a circle of thrones and plush cushions, five women sat talking in soft but quick tones that hushed as soon as he was brought before them.

He recognized the five women from a distance. Two of the women, he noticed, were the oldest with one wearing a widow’s white garbs while the other was blindfolded. He quickly surmised them to be the Dowagers Empresses Kunti and Gandhari. Having already seen Queen Draupadi before, he assumed the last woman to be Queen Subhadra since she was middle aged as well. The last one, however, he could not place until he noticed that she carried a baby with her and identified as Princess Uttara. Uttara, wife of Abhimanyu, son of Arjun and a man killed by seven warriors, including his own father, in one of the most brutal episodes of the Mahabharat war.

He wondered why these women were sitting here all alone until he saw their eyes. Those eyes were the same as those of his grandmother Radha; empty of all their tears and remembering the loved ones lost in the war. It was no wonder they were sitting far from all the pleasures of the palace.

He knelt before them each starting with the eldest queens and repeated the greeting he had practiced a dozen times, “Great ladies of the noble house of Hastinapur, please accept the greetings and protection of your humble servant, Vrishketu. My men and I have been entrusted with your security and passage to Indraprastha. I am told that your baggage has been stowed away as well. So we await your word to leave.”

The elder women responded with polite blessings but Lady Subhadra teased him, “Take a seat, son, you must be tired after torturing our poor guards so thoroughly all morning.” Vrishketu flushed but kept his silence.

“We should be ready to leave soon, son of Karna. Till then, you can rest here”, added Lady Gandhari. 

Finally, it was Lady Draupadi who spoke, “How are your grandparents, Vrishketu?”

Lady Kunti jerked her head towards Draupadi with a glare dripping with venom but he pretended not to notice. The family politics of royal households never interested him and he assumed that this was another in a long line of private jabs between the two women of power.

“Better, Great Queen, the reconstruction keeps them busy.”

And then, Lady Subhadra spoke once again, “You know, we met your mother once. She was quite an extraordinary woman. You must miss her greatly.”

You mean extraordinary for a suta-caste woman, Vrishketu swore silently but decided to respond appropriately, “I do, Noble Lady. My mother was considered extraordinary in our small town.”

Subhadra smiled at this but Draupadi recognized the bait and avoided the trap. This child was certainly bold enough to test the queens of Hastinapur in their own chambers.

“No Vrishketu, Subhadra meant that your mother was exceptional by any standard. Your grandmother Radha and Vrushali had a strength unlike any I have ever met.” She smiled at the momentary confusion on his face.

It was a shock to Vrishketu to hear his own mother’s name uttered so respectfully by these high-born women. At first, he likened their behavior to civility owed to a student of Prince Arjun but now their knowledge of his family was very peculiar. Their grief was as clear as water and he cursed himself for judging them with his own preconceptions. He quickly changed the subject.

“I..I thank you for your kind words, Great Queen. Perhaps I should take my leave so that you all may prepare yourselves for the journey. If I may, I would recommend that we leave before afternoon at the latest to avoid making camp at an unsuitable location.”

Draupadi nodded and told him to expect them outside very soon. As soon as he left, she laughed, “He is certainly Eldest Brother and Sister’s son and I am not just talking about his appearance. Only they would have dared to challenge a queen’s praise with gratitude and insult at the same time.”

This evoked a laughter from all but Queen Kunti who was lost in memories of her lost firstborn

“We really should not keep our poor grandson waiting too long. Come, let us depart”, said Gandhari.

They all got up and were about to leave when Kunti finally spoke, “Do you think he will be able to accept us? I know you forgave us for the deaths of your 100 sons, Sister.”

Gandhari turned at this, “I honestly do not know, Kunti. The boy has suffered great agony without the wisdom and experience of old age. I suppose if he can accept Arjun as his teacher, there must be hope for the rest of us.”


	9. A Gift from the Past

The royal procession was ready to leave within the hour. Vrishketu helped each of the ladies onto their chariots and shouted the orders for the roads to be cleared. It was when he was helping Princess Uttara with her baby that he made a quick observation.

Most royal chariots were not designed for stability like battle chariots and the terrain they were expected to take was quite uneven. The stupidity of royal customs confounded him at times. A queen was expected to show off her royal offspring to the people at all times so there was simply no way to secure a baby. He summoned a rider and gave him some quick instructions.

Returning to the chariot train, he gave the orders to move once the forward patrols reported no dangers. He was riding along Queen Kunti’s chariot when he saw some of his sentries on the flanks were idling and he shouted at them remain vigilant.

Suddenly, Queen Kunti questioned him, “Surely we are safe inside the city’s borders.”

He answered, “Forgive me, Queen Mother, but the greatest dangers always come from within one’s walls. My men must remain vigilant at all times so that you do not need to.”

He rode on ahead to patrol the other sections of the train leaving a misty eyed Kunti, “Truly spoken, grandson, it is one’s own that cause us the greatest harm.”

They had just reached the crossroads to Indraprastha when his messenger returned holding a peculiar contraption. Both the man and his horse were breathing heavily so they must have ridden hard to catch up with them. Vrishketu told him to take up a slow pace alongside one of the supply chariots. The man had certainly earned this reprieve.

Vrishketu held the strange device in his hands and smiled for he and his elder brothers had once ridden in it with their parents at one time or another. Before he could go ahead, the messenger spoke aloud, “Pardon me, captain, but your grandmother wanted me to give you a message as well. Would you like to hear it now?”

This piqued his curiosity, “Very well. Tell me.” It must not be anything important since he had just visited her yesterday.

The messenger looked uncomfortable but finally spoke, “Your grandmother said that if you have her digging around the house for baby seats, perhaps you should give her great-grandsons first.”

Everyone within earshot burst into laughter at the captain’s face flushed with embarrassment. He swore he would never ask his grandmother for favors ever again. The messenger quickly disappeared from his sights and his men suppressed their laughs after one stern look from him.

The queens, on the other hand, were another story. They had enough ammo now to tease him until the end of time.

He took the seat to Princess Uttara’s chariot and said, “My father made this seat to help my mother carry my brothers and I while riding chariots. I took the liberty of sending for it after seeing the terrain ahead. Would you like to use it?”

The little princess nodded, “Thank You, son of Karna. I accept it.” She allowed him to bind the seat beside her and placed her son gracefully in its lap. Vrishketu secured the baby with silk belts until he was comfortable that there was no danger of suffocation or falls. The princess remarked on its ingenuity.

Vrishketu bowed, “You honor me and my family, Princess. My father fashioned it at my grandmother’s insistence. Since his hands helped slay noble Abhimanyu, it is fitting that the labor of his hands also helps safeguard Abhimanyu’s son.”

Uttara was touched by this gesture and inquired, “Your grandmother must be quite formidable to convince your own subordinate to joke with you.”

He laughed with a fond memory of his stern grandmother Radha chasing him around the house, “Indeed, Princess. She raised my father to defy the world. I suppose it is only natural that she herself exhibit the same quality.”

They talked for a little while longer about their home kingdoms of Anga and Virat while the little prince, Parakshit slept easy in the small crib.

Soon, his scouts returned with a suitable location for making camp and he took his leave to divert the procession.


	10. A City Fit for the Gods

The queen’s procession made good time in reaching Indraprastha, partly due to the good roads build before the war and partly, at the insistence of its protective charges.

The queens were appreciative of their protectors and often ready to share food or sacrifice comforts to take shorter routes. Vrishketu was almost appalled when the rich food had given half his men potbellies in a single day.

They reached the city borders and were met by the local villagers, eager to greet them. Seeing the oncoming horde of greeters blocking their path, Vrishketu shouted orders for a protective circle to be formed. He rode forward and requested the people to send a small group of representatives only. A few elders stepped forth and he took them to meet the queens. Even during the meet, his eyes darted back and forth for hidden weapons or potential ambush.

Queen Draupadi sent for him, “We are done here, Vrishketu. I have asked the village elder to send runners ahead. Anyone who wishes to greet us may do so but will not block our path from here on. It should make your duties a little easier.” She said with one of her rare smiles and he thanked her for her concession. He knew this consideration might be seen as her arrogance by some of her subjects but the security risks were too great.

The royal train soon resumed its pace with people from surrounding villages coming to wave at them. He rode alongside a single large chariot built for large parties with several more horses added to it. The five ladies had decided to ride on it together at his request.

The city started to appear at the horizon and he could make out its massive turrets and open palaces. Their path took them through a scenic view of the city dotted with wide roads and intricately crafted buildings. Huge statues of gods and heroes lined the walls while well placed walls within the city ensured that it would take massive armies just to breach even a single area.

“Have you ever been to Indraprastha before, Vrishketu?” He did not know who it was that asked him but he nodded politely, “I have not, noble ladies, but I can see why it is a sight to behold. A city fit for gods..and their sons.” He quickly added.

“Indeed”, replied Queen Draupadi, “The city was built on Lord Indra’s command after he saw how the Pandava princes had restored the barren land of Khandav and accepted the native Nagas, the Serpent People. But that is not what makes it divine.”

He had heard the story before but it was unusual for a queen to deny her own city’s origins, “If I may ask, then, Queen, what makes this city divine?”

The Queen Draupadi smiled at him and told him a unique incident,

“Interestingly enough, it was your parents who helped us make it so. You may not know this but your mother was one of the most first migrants from Hastinapur who left to settle this city. She served me on the way and she spoke about missing her childhood home and friends. When I assured her that her contribution to this new kingdom would help society, she simply asked me how the fruits of her labor would be returned to her. I must confess to be taken aback by this abrupt question from a commoner."

“I asked her to elaborate and she said that if the people were only asked to shed their blood and sweat to make a glorious kingdom, we would get another Hastinapur. However, if she was asked to build a nation, where all had equal share of the glory, freedom and opportunity, then that would be worth leaving Hastinapur for. That one remark drove my husbands and I to think about how we better treat our subjects and embrace the Naga population, which in turn pleased the gods enough to build this city.”

He remembered his mother offering similar pearls of wisdom to his father in affairs of state. She may not have known much of politics or economics but she certainly knew how to apply morality to them both.

One word stood out, however, in his mind “Queen Draupadi, you said it was my parents, not just my mother?”

Draupadi raised an eyebrow as if to confirm his ignorance, “You mean you do not know? Of course… your father would never have mentioned this to anyone. Anga-raj Karna once defied Duryodhana; to bring us a message from Lady Kunti of all things. He brought us her challenge to make this city a free from Hastinapur’s yoke by completing the Rajsuya Yagya, the declaration ritual for independence. My husband, the Emperor, borrowed many of the democratic and educational reforms practiced in Anga and Dwarika as well. He admired how your father opened new avenues for education to all castes and varnas. In fact, Indraprastha’s entire education system is motivated by Anga.”

In that moment, Vrishketu was drawn towards this city even more. Not just because it was built by the gods but also the divine ideology of his parents.


	11. Training the Future

Word came from Hastinapur that the Pandava brothers would be arriving with many of the dignitaries, including Lord Krishna, by the month’s end. The messenger had also brought new orders for Vrishketu from his guru to stay in Indraprastha and guard the city and his guru’s family.

And so, he often accompanied the queens on various trips for the preparations. The city guard was efficient and well trained so he diverted the majority of his time in securing the royal family. In particular, he often found himself in the company of Draupadi and Subhadra. They had begun to insist that he need not address them with elaborate titles so he settled for calling them Gurumata.

One of the new constants in his life was Parakshit. The child always tried to go to Vrishketu from his mother’s arms, only to further fuel the teasing of queens, “Perhaps your grandmother Radha has found her great-grandson.” He was loathe to openly admit it, but he had grown to like the child as well. For one thing, he found that using his hand eye coordination exercises with toys had a soothing effect on the child. It led to an endless series of calls from Uttara to help calm the babe during his crying spells. In the end, he showed the exercises to Uttara so she could calm the boy herself. Reduced from a warrior to a nanny, he imagined his brothers in heaven were laughing at him.

It was a quiet evening before the expected arrival of the delegation from Hastinapur when they had decided to retire to the gardens for some peace. It was likely going to be the last evening they would have to themselves for the next few weeks. Parakshit was playing with his toys and to everyone’s confusion, the child started doing an odd dance with his hands.

Uttara questioned the baby in the odd tongue that exists between mothers and infants. The other women grew curious as well and focused their eyes on the child. At first, Vrishketu was puzzled and then it dawned on him; the child was copying his coordination exercises!

Uttara recognized these movements too and whispered something in Queen Subhadra’s ear. Subhadra listened with quiet attention and then brought a mischievous grin that reminded him why she was Vasudev’s sister. 

The two women bowed to Vrishketu together and regally spoke, “It would seem Parakshit has already found his own guru.”


	12. The Prince of None

The enormity of what was said that day did not fade from his mind for a long time. They were willing to entrust the future of their entire lineage in his hands. Vrishketu, an enemy’s son they had probably accepted out of some misplaced sense of guilt. The descendant of a charioteer without a drop of royal blood was being asked to mentor the progeny of gods and demigods.

While the queens had never spoken of the issue again, the fervor of the imminent arrival of royal delegations from Hastinapur drove the topic away from everyone’s mind. His days were spent securing the housing arrangements for hundreds of monks to kings likely with personal entourages of their own.

It was during one of these security sweeps that he noticed one of the palatial guest quarters reserved for the Prince of Anga. Memories flooded back of eldest brother being addressed by that title. Since his father’s death, Anga’s control had reverted back under the throne of Hastinapur. Anger surged in his throat and he sought the man responsible for this insult. Perhaps it was an oversight but one he would investigate, and correct, personally. He summoned one of his men to take over for him while asking for the man responsible for placing guest accommodations. His men looked to him in astonishment as their captain stormed away, silently praying to the gods for the man who had raised their captain’s ire.

He soon found his culprit, a court functionary who seemed oblivious to the offense he had given to the warrior standing before him. He produced a small scroll with a royal seal directing him to reserve a section of the best guest quarters for the delegation from Anga.

Vrishketu left, perplexed at the abrupt turn in his inquiry. He was on good terms with the royal family but outright questioning them would require more influence than he would ever possess. He was thinking of another way to obtain information when he followed a turn in the halls and almost ran headlong into a familiar face.

Prime Minister Vidura, counsellor to the kings of Hastinapur for countless years, uncle to the Pandavas and the wisest man alive smiled up to him. He was a short man, with greying beard and withering features. Wearing simple clothes for a man of his position, he could be easily mistaken for a common villager, if not for his elaborately carved walking staff.

“It would seem the warrior’s thoughts are elsewhere. I thought aspiring maharathis were always aware of their surroundings and senses”, the old man remarked with a frown.

Vrishketu instead sought the man’s blessings. He knew better than to underestimate this man or fall to his traps of words. The old man was known for his wordplay and tricks to learn others’ weaknesses. It was no surprise his machinations and spies had kept the Pandavas safe on so many occasions.

“Forgive me, old one. My mind was too distracted by another matter to notice your ancient presence”, he replied.

“Very impressive, young man. Most warriors would have unsheathed their swords by now at that perceived insult. Instead, you call me an old man and sought my blessings at the same time”, said the Prime Minister, clearly reforming his opinions of Vrishketu. “Your father had no patience for my words, though.”

It was Vrishketu’s turn to answer this latest jab, “Then you did not know him as well as you think, great elder. My father taught us to respect those who prove their station rather than inheriting it.”

At this, the elder laughed, “Very well, I will concede, young man. You should try sparring words with Vasudev someday. Truly, I did like your father though we disagreed on many things. He was one of the few who never judged me for my birth. Perhaps I can return that kindness by helping his son with this matter that distracts him so?”  
Vrishketu suddenly realized this for the opportunity he was looking for. Vidura was a high ranking man within the administration. And he understood the motivations of royalty better than anyone.

“I was curious as to why the Prince of Anga has been given a position in the yagna when there is no royalty of Anga to speak of.”

“Ah, I can see why this would concern you. You do know that delegations from all kingdoms who fought in the war, especially those of the Kaurava camp, have been invited under a banner of peace. Since your father had subjugated many of these kings and gained their allegiance, a representative for Anga is expected. Hence, you were chosen for that station”, the minister spoke nonchalantly.

Vrishketu racked his brain looking for a way out this arrangement, “I have nothing against the ritual but I am no one’s prince, elder. Those kings may have been conquered by my father but they pledged their allegiance to Hastinapur. My father never asked for a crown or title; he did not even want his own sons to be called princes of a kingdom given in charity.”

“And yet, Anga did prosper under his rule. From what I can gather, he set up quite an effective meritocracy. He may not have wanted the crown but he was certainly worthy of it.   
Did you stop to think that maybe we saw the same worth in you?” Vidura replied in an even voice.

“I did not, lord elder.” said Vrishketu, “Your words do make sense of this whole affair but crowns, even temporary ones, do come with costs and debts. If I am worthy, I will make it manifest on my own terms in due time.”

“You are wise, child, but no one is forcing you to rule a kingdom. We were simply being polite by asking you to perform the sacred duties that your father would have. It was certainly not meant as an insult to you or your family.”

They spoke for a while longer, mostly with Vidura refuting Vrishketu’s logic, until he finally agreed, “Very well, lord minister. I will act in my father’s stead, but only for the duration of this yagya, and I really do not need some lavish quarters. My original barracks will suffice. I will also be need to be excused soon after to protect the sacred horse when it roams the land.”

“That would be fine”, Vidura began to walk away but left a parting gift, “You should not discount your own station so readily, young man. The only time my nephew, Duryodhan, proved me wrong was when he crowned a commoner after seeing his skill. A servant’s son can be a prime minister. Walking sticks can be royal scepters. Charioteers’ sons can be mighty kings. And the Prince of None can be the King of All.”


	13. The Vestments of Memory

The arrival of the Emperor and his brothers was an event for the ages. Although Yudhishtir had visited Indraprastha after his victory, this was the first time he was hosting an official event there. The people had embraced this challenge wholeheartedly and flocked to welcome kings and ambassadors from throughout Bharat. Flowers and rose petals would be showered from rooftops and Vrishketu himself led a squad of archers to light up the sky with shimmering auroras.

As the emperor’s chariot neared the city gates, he did a final security check in with his lieutenants and rushed to meet the greeting party. Before he could join them, however, he was stopped by a group of servants carrying trays of ornaments of silks and ornaments, “Forgive me, captain, but I was sent by Queen Subhadra to remind you to wear the proper attire before joining her.” Stumped by this sudden reminder, Queen Subhadra gave him a wink from a distance and pointed to the trays. He had hoped to wear his soldier’s uniform since no one had explicitly told him about the dress protocol.

“And just how am I supposed to respond in case of a security breach if I am laden down with gold and silk?”, asked a frustrated Vrishketu.

The servant simply gave him a shrug and directed him to one of the nearby chambers. He had to admit the maids knew their job well. They had him in finery and ornaments faster than most of his soldiers could muster to battle drills.

“I supposed I should let you train my men for some time”, he remarked dryly.

His lieutenant mentioned something about throwing the gold to his men to run in an emergency but restored a stone face after an angry look from his captain.

He thought he was done when one of them stopped him and pointed towards a covered tray. He lifted the veil and found something that brought tears to his eyes. It was a crown, made of solid gold and studded with yellow gems. The artisan of this masterpiece had clearly wanted to mimic the radiance of the sun as intricate rows of spikes in the form of sun-rays protruded from the crown. It was his father’s crown and the last time he had seen him wearing it was when he left for the war. He had assumed it had been lost to scavengers or been claimed as part of some treasure by a victorious king. He held it in his trembling hands for what seemed like an eternity when the chanting of the Emperor’s name broke his reverie. One of the old servants placed it on his head and gave him an approving nod.

By the time he reached the gates, the emperor and his brothers were already present. They were being received by Queen Gandhari as she was the eldest woman in the family. A group of ambassadors parted to give him way at their head as they were being represented as a whole by Anga. They had arrived a few days earlier at his request so that he could receive their respective embassies without entanglements with his growing duties to the sacred ritual. He directed them to one of the areas on the sidelines that offered a good vantage point of the procession, albeit far from it.

He had begun scanning the crowd for malcontents when he noticed the chariot appearing behind the Emperor’s. A magnificent chariot pulled by four of the purest white horses and driven by his own guru , carried the man singularly responsible for the Pandava’s victory and his own father’s death. His guru had once remarked that to know Vasudev Krishna was to know the universe itself. Now, it was visible to his own eyes. 

The God Incarnate had come to Indraprastha.


	14. An Encounter with God

No matter how much he tried to rationalize it, his heart seemed to melt away at Lord Krishna’s sight. This man, known to be the avatar of the Supreme Being, radiated serenity and purity. Lord Krishna, together with Prince Arjun, approached the blindfolded queen and asked for her blessings. They were followed by Prince Bhima and the younger Twin Pandavas. One after another, the royal procession introduced kings, ambassadors and sages of the highest order.

Vrishketu’s eyes were still focused on Lord Krishna. Suddenly, the avatar directed his eyes at him and Vrishketu felt engulfed by a mighty presence. His mind felt every pain and every joy that was ever possible. He could feel the birth and death of every living creature, from the lowliest of insects to the mightiest of beasts. A giant figure stood before him with numerous heads of every god imaginable holding every instrument ever created in a multitude of arms. 

And then, he was blinded by a pure white light, only to find himself standing in the same spot at the exact moment he had directed his gaze at the Avatar. Surely this was a glimpse of the Divine From of the Supreme Being, the Vishwaroop that his father had once mentioned seeing at the Kuru court just before the war. It was clear to him now why his father and the elders of Hastinapur practically worshiped this enigma of a man. He bowed in the Lord’s direction for such a divine experience. It was then that he noticed that the last of the guests had arrived and were being shown to their quarters to rest after such a long journey. He also dismissed his embassy members with requests to assemble tomorrow for the sacred rituals.

Vrishketu was eager to shed his overbearing garments in the peace of his own quarters when he was intercepted by a message to join his guru immediately at the inner palace chambers. His guru must have urgent orders for him if he would forego enjoying his family’s company after such a long time. As he rushed to the chambers, he heard the sound of laughter and a lively discourse. He asked the gate sentry to send a message to Prince Arjun that his student was seeking a private audience. Although he had grown close to the royal family, he still remembered to respect his teacher’s privacy with his family. The sentry guardian returned and simply told him that he was expected inside.

As he entered the hall, the sentry announced him in as ‘Vrishketu, Regent of Anga”. He realized the sentry had probably been commanded to do so by his teacher. A wave of silence greeted his approach as he saw the entire royal family staring at him with a mix of awe and sadness. It was as if they were all lost in their own memories. He sought the blessings of his teacher first followed by the elders and then the king. Their responses were mumbled blessings with nodded heads and it was Lord Krishna who broke the silence. Vrishketu sought his blessings by touching his feet but the Avatar eagerly embraced him instead.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet the son of the great Karna. You will have to excuse your teacher and his family for it seems we have a ghost among our midst. You look the splitting image of your father.”

It was Vrishketu’s turn to be stunned into silence. This embrace felt like a warm cocoon where his hatred and anger seemed to wash away, replaced by pure joy and understanding. It was only when the two parted that his senses returned to him.

“I am blessed by your presence, Lord, although I hope to equal my father in his dharma than just appearance someday”, said Vrishketu without thinking. His heart seemed to lose all inhibitions before Vasudev’s enigmatic smile.

Prince Arjun finally spoke, “My brothers and I wanted to thank you, Vrishketu. You took excellent care of the queens and our grandson. From what I hear, you have already started instructing the child in the battle arts.”

As if on cue, Parakshit started dancing his learned combat routines in his mother’s lap which evoked laughter from all his grandparents.

His heart at peace, Vrishketu felt a strange sense of belonging, a feeling he thought he had lost forever with the loss of his parents and brothers. It was as though everything in the world was perfect as long as he walked with the God Incarnate, Vasudev Krishna.


	15. The Balance of Light and Darkness

That evening would be one of the happiest memories in Vrishketu’s life for a long time. He ate and drank sitting by his guru and his family that day. They laughed at Prince Sahadev’s witty jokes and listening to the melodies of Keshav’s flute and Prince Arjun’s veena. Uttara mentioned the incident with his grandmother Radha and he became the object of teasing for the entire royal family once again. Word soon came that a few of the ambassadors’ bodyguards had started a drunken quarrel and Vrishketu took it as a reminder to return to his duties. He paid his respects once again to the elders and took his leave. As he left, he could feel their collective gaze on his back but most of all, he was pained at being deprived of Lord Krishna’s company.

When the doors closed behind him, Arjun got up to confirm that his student was out of earshot. Yudhishtir spoke up, “He looked just like Eldest. The same radiance, the same stride...It took all my willpower not to embrace him there and then.”

Prince Bhima turned to the queens, “What do you think, mother? Paanchali? Subhadra? You have spent a lot of time with him in the past few months. Is he ready to know the truth?”

Draupadi carefully chose her words, “He has accepted us in a formal sense and his unease around us has lessened quite a bit. But there is still a great gulf between us.”

“Though he is protective of Parakshit”, added an eager Uttara

It was Subhadra who voiced her own thoughts, “Yes, but the question here is whether he can handle the truth or not? Is his mind stable enough and heart calm enough?”

“Can anyone ever be prepared for such a thing? It took us years to come to terms with Eldest’s truth and we were nowhere near as young”, said one of Twin Princes.

Queen Gandhari said, “We all heard about his reaction against the title of Anga from Vidura. It was…troubling. Perhaps we should give him more time to get used to us.”

The other Twin Prince spoke up as well, “His training with divine weapons should definitely be suspended for now. If he points his arrows at us, he would be unstoppable to all but Brother Arjun.”

It was the teacher who finally said, “And do you think I will be able to kill him even if I had the power to do so? Because that will be the only way to stop him. Eldest’s death still haunts my dreams and…” He turned to Lord Krishan. “We are all bogged in idle conjecture. Vasudev, you know the heart of all. Surely, you can shows us the way.”

Lord Krishan maintained his serene gaze and responded, “I see both pain and agony in his heart. But I also see that much of it has been suppressed by your love. You have done all that you can to show him that he can have a loving home and family with you. The only thing holding him back from moving on is the ignorance of his father’s life and the hatred that spawns from it.”

“I agree. Keeping him in the dark will fuel that hatred even more and no amount of affection will be able to contain it.”, said Vidura raising everyone’s concern, “Besides, the sacred horse will soon be released and Vrishketu will likely defend it with his life, irrespective of his teacher’s protection” quickly adding the last part to calm Arjun’s protests. He continued, “The son of Karan should not fight out of some misguided sense of repayment for the debt of his father’s sins. It would be a repeat of the same tragedy as his father. ”

The Pandava brothers and their queens nodded in agreement.

“You are right, Vidura. It would be an even greater insult to Karna’s memory. It is I who need to atone”, acknowledged Kunti, breaking her silence.


	16. To Be Human

The Sacred Horse Ritual brought a unique sense of sanctity and peace to Indraprastha. Incense filled the air as hundreds of monks chanted hymns around rows of sacrificial fires. The king sat with the rest of the royal family around a central fire where the great Sage Vyasa himself was conducting the sacred rites.

What bothered Vrishketu was that the royal family was a bit too polite, excessively in fact, in treatment with him today. Vrishketu had been asked to assist them and had readily agreed to the honor. The Emperor ignored more than a few offended stares from highborne princes and monks in attendance

More than anyone, it was his teacher and Queen Draupadi who were acting with unease in his presence, with forced smiles and avoiding meeting his gaze. He began thinking of ways he could have overstepped his bounds as a student or a guardian. He overheard one of the high priests whispering his protest (“Letting a sutaputra take the place of their noble son, have they gone mad?!”). It was quickly shot down by a single look from Lord Krishna. Vrishketu realized the station he had been asked to fill was once Prativindya’s, eldest of the Queen Draupadi’s five deceased sons. He resolved not to let his company malign the reputation of the royal family or cause any more grief to them. It could be that some king could challenge the sacred horse later citing his impure participation. He recused himself by mentioning his security duties and took off from the prayer grounds.  
When the day’s proceedings ended, he was summoned to his teacher’s chambers and he found himself facing Prince Arjun and Queen Draupadi.

“Why did you leave the yagya so early, Vrishketu? And do not give me some made up excuse. I want the truth!”, commanded a furious Arjun. His wife raised an arm to calm her husband’s approach but the command was already given.

Vrishketu found himself in a quandary. He could never to lie to his teacher. His father’s curse served as a constant reminder for him against that sin. All that was left to him was to follow his teacher’s orders and tell the truth.

“Forgive me, Gurudev. I could not stain the sacred ritual with my unworthy presence. Your guests were clearly appalled at my appointment to the yagya”, the student replied sheepishly.

“And since when does the son of Karna bother with mundane old customs? Did you really think we did not consider all those moot points before asking you for the position?” It was Draupadi who spoke with a fire in her voice.

Arjun added, “You are my student, Vrishketu, and just as worthy as any of my sons if they were alive today. Never doubt this again.”

Vrishketu was too overwhelmed by this but still concerned to iron out the issue from before. “May I ask then, Gurudev, what was the source of discomfort for both of you at the yagya today, if not me?”

His Gurudev gave a small laugh, “Truly, son, we were concerned for you, not by you. We knew that some in attendance would object to your placement. Perhaps we should have informed you to be more prepared for their protests.”

Vrishketu was relieved as well at this answer but something else suddenly sprang up in his mind. “If I may, Gurudev and Gurumata, I have another question but I ask this not as your student but as the son of your former enemy.”

They reluctantly nodded so the student continued with his question, “Your family has always treated me well, general. In fact, too well. Why did you, Prince Arjun, father to the man who slew your son treat me like your own? And why do you, Queen Draupadi, object of a grave insult by my father, accept me into your family?”

Tension marked their faces and Draupadi struggled to control her voice lest it reveal hidden secrets.

“Because your father paid for these two sins a hundred times over on the field of battle, Vrishketu” said a booming voice from the chamber entrance. They turned to find Lord Krishna striding in to rescue the teacher and his friend. “Your father always treated his enemies with respect even under the greatest of duress. But that is not why the Pandavas treat you with respect. Well, not entirely”, Vasudev added with a shrug.

Now, Arjun started as well, “It is true, son. Your father spared my brothers and I even though we were bitter enemies just to follow the warrior’s code. He refused to attack disarmed opponents. You, too, have diligently followed the warrior’s code and it is that dedication that made me take you on as my student.”

“And your father was once insulted by me at my swayamvara. Your father may have insulted me but by sparing my husbands, he atoned for it five times over” added Daupadi.  
Vrishketu felt ashamed at questioning his Gurudev and Gurumata in such a manner. He apologized profusely only to receive assurances that nothing inappropriate had been said.

Lord Krishna laid a palm on his shoulder and said, “You asked fair questions, child. We all succumb to our curiosities and passions sometimes. It is part of being human. No one can ever be immune to that, not the Pandavas, not Panchali and not even me.” This brought surprise to the student’s face, “The trick is to rise above them. Karna strived his entire life to do just that and so should you. Also, the sins of your father were committed in his more human moments but they need not be carried by you. Just think on that…Rest for now and prepare for tomorrow’s sacred rites.”

Vrishketu bowed to the three of them and left with a smile as if a great burden had been lifted off his mind.

The three left behind suddenly reflected on their own human moments.


	17. Encroaching Darkness

The sacred yagya was in its final course after two weeks of daily prayers and rituals. For the people, it had been two weeks of feasts and holidays. Mendicants had come in droves seeking since sacred rituals with royal families usually finished with heavy donations. Soon, the yagya horse would roam the world. In the old days, the roaming horse carried an ultimatum of subjugation but this time, it would be a message of peace and friendship.

After a long day of endless prayers and fasting, the last thing Vrishketu wanted to do was to lie in his bunk. He sought to meditate under the setting sun. He changed out of his ceremonial robes and left for the riverbank.

When returning, he noticed a few of his soldiers sleeping on their posts. It is bad enough all these feasts are making my men fat and lazy, he thought with a sigh. He looked forward to protecting the sacred horse in the field for a year, away from all the excess comforts. Trying to rouse them, he registered an oddly familiar smell. He hurriedly placed a cloth on his face to keep from accidentally breathing in the poison. He searched the men for the clues and found it in their water skins. Someone had poisoned the water supply of every soldier in the palace.

Years of training took over as he ran through the palace shouting for guards to sound the alarm. He made a beeline for the barracks to warn any surviving soldiers and found them to be incapacitated. So the enemy had poisoned the water at the barracks itself, he deduced. His mind raced and he sought to piece together the enemy’s plan. Poison certainly meant professional assassins although the scope of the attack meant at least a small group of them. He tried to narrow the list of vulnerable or potential targets. Surely, no one would be foolish enough to attack the great Pandava warriors, especially when Prince Bhim was immune to poisons. The guest quarters had their own retinue of bodyguards with their own water supply. And certainly no one would take such extreme measures to target anyone outside the royal family. A fear ran through him; this only left the queens and the grandson as the potential targets.

He raced towards the queen’s chambers and sure enough, found the gate guardians to be slain. Sounds of struggle could be heard coming from inside. Readying his bow, he quietly stepped into the quarters. He counted 12 men holding the five queens on their knees, preparing to execute them. Silently approaching from a height, he spoke a mantra and aimed for their necks. In the next instant, the twelve were dead, pierced with arrows simultaneously. He noticed they were wearing the robes of monks. He mentally kicked himself for not expecting such deception.

Uttara ran towards him in tears, “They took Parakshit. You have to save my son..please!!”, pointing towards the palace grove.

He addressed the five queens, “No harm will come to him, I swear! Now, please, seal the doors behind me. There may be more of these cowards in the palace. Do not let anyone else in. Do you understand ?”

The other queens were still in shock but nodded. He realized he had spoken a little too forcefully but this was no time for polite words.

He ran towards the grove, determined to get a child back to his mother.


	18. To Defend the Future

The palace grove was a place of serenity but its calm was disturbed by the crying of a toddler bound to the back of an assassin. The man was running for one the streams that linked the grove to the holy river. It had taken him and his companions, months of searching to find this escape route under the palace walls. He was moments away from the river gate when it clad shut and an arrow whisked a hair’s width above his head. The man dropped and brought up his sword just in time to block a second arrow.

Vrishketu had aimed to use his element of surprise to kill the assassin in one shot but his opponent’s reflexes surprised him. They were clearly on par with his own. He jumped down from the wall and landed in front of his opponent, relieved to see the young prince uninjured.

“Who are you? You have the reflexes of a warrior but lack a warrior’s honor”, asked Vrishketu.

His opponent shed the monk’s robes and revealed an armor bearing the symbol of the Trigarta kingdom’s elite forces. A shudder went through Vrishketu. The man was a Samsaptaka, fanatic warriors of the late King Susharma, whose million strong legion had sworn to kill Arjuna or die trying.

“I thought all of King Susharma’s warriors took an oath of suicide if they could not kill Prince Arjun on the 14th day of the war”, said Vrishketu.

The man answered with a snarl, “A handful of us survived, wounded but mistaken for dead. We have been planning our revenge for a long time.”

“That child has done nothing to you. Your quarrel is with Prince Arjun, not his grandson” said Vrishketu.

“This whelp will force the mighty Arjuna to surrender his life. The fact that he is also heir to Virata, sworn enemies of Trigarta, will make the deaths of grandfather and grandson all the more sweet.” The assassin almost smiled. “My master, my comrades, they will finally be at peace.”

Vrishketu was sickened by this abhorrent act, “The war is over, fool! Your comrades are dead. Surrender, let the boy go and you will be shown mercy. You have my promise.” He tried to delay as long as possible as he tried to remember the fighting styles of Trigarta and await reinforcements. Negotiating with such a madman were clearly futile to him.  
Smoke arose from a distance and Vrishketu realized why no reinforcements had come yet.

“If you think anyone is coming to help, you are wrong. My men made sure that the Pandavas and your soldiers would have other…distractions. It is just you and me, boy!” The ingenuity of his opponent’s plan repulsed him even more. As captain of the city guard, it was his duty to foresee such a security breach. His opponent took advantage of this momentary distraction and lunged.

Losing the advantage of arrows, Vrishektu and the assassin flashed their swords and were locked in a dance of blades. Vrishketu would corner the man but his opponent used the baby as a shield, often halting fatal strikes at the last moment. Seeing no other option, Vrishketu barreled into the assassin, hitting him full force in the gut and going in for the killing blow. The assassin screamed in pain, still surprised at the sword protruding from his belly as he fell. Parakshit was still crying and Vrishketu quickly unbound the infant from his captor’s back. Apart from a few scratches, the little prince seemed whole.

Vrishketu held the infant in his arms and breathed a sigh of relief. He bent down to retrieve his sword when he saw a knife coming towards Parakshit. The assassin was making a last ditch attempt on his target.

Instinctively, Vrishketu held out his arm to protect the child and winced as the blade pierced his hand. The assassin chortled with blood pouring out of his mouth and slowly fell silent.

Curious at what a dying assassin would laugh about, Vrishketu suddenly felt the world revolve and his legs give away. He removed the blade with his other hand and could smell another poison on it. He could feel his body paralyzing and his vision getting blurred. His senses were failing. Pain shot through every fiber of his being. This poison was different from before; it would give him a very slow and painful death. A great urge to sleep was creeping up on him.

‘So this is how the son of great Karna dies in the end. Not on the battlefield or in a glorious fight but with a poisoned blade’, he thought as poison coursed through his body.

The last sight before him was the setting sun and a thought, “Father, your son is coming home.”


	19. A Light in the Darkness

Vrishketu saw himself lying in the grove with the infant wailing by his side. He could feel his mind getting numb and his thoughts getting mixed. Darkness surrounded him and he wondered if this was the gateway to Lord Yama’s realm of the dead. It beckoned him to surrender, to be freed of all his worries and concerns of the living. Doubts surrounded him like a fog with voices of the dead begging him to let go and he struggled to remain coherent. The shades of the next world took on the voices of his own dead brothers and mother.

_Why do you resist, son? Your mother awaits you._

_Be free of this mortal coil, brother._

_Why do you remain in pain? There is peace here._

_Why remain among your father's killers? Cross over....all you have do is accept our gift..._

He summoned every ounce of his will to focus his mind and clear his thoughts.

All of a sudden, he felt a bright light bathing him in its warmth. He found himself standing along the banks of holy Ganga where he gave his daily prayers, with the sun shining brightly above him. The surroundings had a surreal familiarity to him, especially since the Sun was glowing brightly enough to be right on top of him, keeping a fog of dancing shadows at bay.

“You always were too stubborn to give up, Vrishketu” a familiar voice resonated behind him.

He turned to find his father, Karna, sitting on a large rock by the riverside. He was clad in the same fashion as when he left that fateful day for the war. Vrishketu approached him cautiously, thinking it was another apparition conjured by the dead. Still, apparition or not, he bowed to his father’s image.

“Do not be scared, son. I am no phantom.” Karna smiled, as if reading his son’s thoughts. He beckoned his son to sit beside him with a wave of his hand.

Hearing these words, Vrishketu’s tension eased somewhat and he sat beside him. It reminded him of how he and his brothers used to accompany their father to their daily prayers to Lord Surya.

“Where are we, father? Am I dead?”, asked Vrishketu.

Karna chuckled, “Well, that would depend on you, son. Think of this as a crossroads between realms. Do not dwell too much on that for now. Let us enjoy this moment. Your grandfather upset more than a few gods to give us this chance.”

“What do you speak of, father? How is this even possible? Where is mother and all my elder brothers?”

It was then that Karna spoke with a sad voice, “The mysteries of the dead are not for the living, my son, nor is the living world open to the dead. Only I was allowed to guide you, to help you make a choice.”

This time, it was Vrishketu who said in a trembling voice, “Choice? What choice, father?”

“Your body heals itself, son, but whether you live or die is up to you. Your soul hangs in a balance. The light within you is derived from your love for others and gives you the strength to fight the poison. However, the hatred within you is adding to the poison and saps your will to live.”

Vrishketu steeled himself and finally asked, “Then tell me the Truth, father. The injustices done to our family have long tortured my soul. If you want me to give up my hatred, then I need to know!”

Karna, looking at the Sun, sighed and spoke, “Very well, son. Then prepare yourself. Hear the Life and Truth of Karna, son of Surya, firstborn to Kunti and Eldest of Pandavas.”


	20. The Truth of Karna

Karna launched into the story of how he was born to a curious teenage princess by a divine mantra given to her by Sage Durvasa. The princess, fearful of her society’s reaction, cast her son born with divine armor and earrings, into the holy river.

He recounted how he grew up as the son of Adiratha and Radha, charioteers to the royal family. Although Vrishketu could hear the words, he could not believe them. These words spoke of a mother’s helplessness and an outcast’s struggle to find his identity and acceptance. They spoke of a lowborn man watching his entire life’s dedication undone by an insect and still finding enough courage to challenge the arrogance of the highborn. The tale told of a man rejected, cursed, manipulated, stripped of power and forced to commit sins for the devil who called him friend. He listened to man who refused the world to knowingly die in a war by his own brother’s hand. He realized he stood before a warrior so mighty that it took the collective gods and their curses to defeat him by deceit. By the end of the tale, Vrishketu could bear no more. He was awed by the Truth and bowed to his father in deference. Realization dawned within him and all the puzzles of his life finally clicked into place.

“So now you know all, Vrishketu. I know it is a lot to digest but this is what you wanted; the bitter Truth.” said Karna.

Vrishketu’s awe changed to anger, “How?... How could they do this to you? How could YOU do this to your own family? Why did you refuse Vasudev’s offer? My mother, your wife, would be alive today! My brothers would be alive today! They would be have been kings! Do you have any idea how many of my comrades from Anga were lost in that accursed war?” His anger turned to tears and he fell at his father’s feet, sobbing.

Karna leaned down and raised his son. “I know you have suffered, son. I know your pain because I felt it from the day I was born to my last breath. That feeling of abandonment, the feeling of the world turning against you in all things. My death, though, was necessary.”

“Necessary?! Necessary?!! That’s it! You summed up our misfortunes in one word?” Vrishketu was aghast and stepped back from his father.

“Think, Vrishketu! You know I never cared for titles or kingdoms. What recourse did I have? I could have passed on the throne to Duryodhana but he was a kshatriya prince. He would never accept charity. He had his entire life to simply ask Yudhishtir for the throne if he wanted it that way. Even if I became king, I would have stolen the throne from Duryodhana. He may have accepted me as king but his sons or his 99 brothers would never have accepted it. They would have fought with you and your brothers in future, restarting this whole cycle of hatred in the family. And I could not betray him. I would have destroyed the world for that man because he gave me a purpose to live. To betray him would have meant eternal scorn from my only true friend. The world would have called me king but I would be the Traitor in his and my own eyes. And you would be known as the son of a traitor. I could suffer any number of insults but oath-breaker is not one of them.” Karna was pleading with his son.

“So you sacrificed us all for some hollow honor. Is that it? An entire generation passed from this world for your honor, father!” Vrishketu realized he was shouting at the man whom he had just bowed to a few moments ago.

But now, it was Karna who shouted, “And the world is better for it! Think, son. All of us followed a wrong man out of loyalty and so our dharma was corrupted. Think back on your lessons. The world does not need brave men, it needs brave men who can think for themselves. If the Kauravas were victorious, the world would be alive but enslaved to Duryodhana’s corruption.”

Vrishketu’s voice trembled with rage, “So you traded my brother’s lives for arrogant cowards who hid behind women, lied to their own guru and killed with treachery at every step?”

“No son, I traded my life and those of my eight sons to keep my word. I had insulted Draupadi. My hands killed Abhimanyu, Ghatotkacha and so many more, my own nephews. I could not be the Eldest to men whose wife I had insulted so greatly, whose own sons I had killed. Even if by some miracle,  I had killed Arjuna in spite of Lord Krishna's presence, how would I face the rest of the Pandavas? How would I face Kunti? You have seen the pain in their hearts that tortures them everyday when they look at you. I could not let my loyalty pollute their purity. That war was a sacrificial fire, son. It destroyed the race of kings whose warlike nature no place in the new age of mankind. It purified our souls. But you were still young, untouched by evil. So your brothers and I decided to spare you our fate.” Karna’s voice was shaking.

Vrishketu stood silent for a long while trying to wrap his mind around his father’s logic. In the end, he shook his head, “I can only imagine the predicament you were in, father. But I do know that no sin of a father is so great that it needs the blood of his eight innocent sons. The world owes you the respect you deserve, father. I will see to it or die trying.”

“No Vrishketu! The world has seen enough war. Hatred cannot command the love of others. Only love can do that. The world has given me respect. It has given a loving family to my youngest son, to you! Accept them, son, accept their love. That is all the respect I need”, said Karna.

The sun above them pulsed. Karna looked to his son with a new fervor, tightly embracing him as if to never let go again.

“It is time, son. My boy, my little boy… give way to the light within you. Burn away the darkness that surround us. Whatever happens, son, know that I am proud of you! Know that we are proud of you”

In a flash, many little wisps surrounded them and transformed into Vrishketu’s brothers and Vrushali, smiling down upon him.

Vrishketu felt an enormous energy rise within him and bowed to his family for the last time. A light engulfed him and he found himself being pulled away from them in a blaze.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was lying in his bed surrounded by another family. Arjun sat by him along with the rest of Pandava brothers, the queens and his grandparents. He tried to talk but his throat was parched. His teacher was in tears with joy and leaned forward to hug him.

He summoned enough strength to speak and gave a broad smile, “Greetings, Uncle! Father sends his regards.”

The shock on his uncles’ collective faces was all the retribution he would ever want.


	21. The Consequence of Truth

Vrishketu tried to get out of bed and pain shot through his arm. It had been a week since the blade had pierced his hand and the poison had taken a heavy toll. The healers had been stumped at his miraculous recovery. Some of them had even reported seeing him glow with sunlight while he was unconscious. There were regular visits from his grandparents and comrades but none from the royal family since then. He was brought up to speed on how the remaining assassins had been caught and Parakshit had survived the ordeal unharmed. The horse ritual had been suspended temporarily until a more auspicious time.

He forced himself through the pain and staggered outside. Despite the protests of the healers, he had resolved to once again take up the bow. Finally conceding, they had fashioned crutches for him to help him walk again. At this rate, he was confident of regaining his skills within a few months.

“Where do you think you are going, boy?”, said his grandmother Radha walking up to him.

He simply asked her if he could go out into the sun, “I’d like to offer my prayers today.”

He expected her to object, but instead she smiled and took his arm. They walked out to the riverside spot where he had met his father in that dream state and relaxed on those familiar rocks. Along the way, the people parted to give them way. He had noticed a new wariness among those around him.

He asked his grandmother, “What is the matter with the people here, grandmother? Why is everyone acting so strangely?”

His grandmother maintained her silent gaze and slowly spoke, “They know, Vrishketu. King Yudhishtir revealed the truth of your father on the day you woke up.”

“He did what?!!” Vrishketu was shocked. “It could not have been easy for him to expose his own mother to that kind of humiliation.”

Radha turned furious, “Humiliation? I call it justice, and a paltry one at that. I would think that you would be the first in line to cast stones on that woman.”

“No grandmother. I am still coming to terms with father’s life, with my own identity. But I do know that no good will come of humiliating Queen Kunti any further.” His father’s parting words still echoed in his mind. “Why has none of them come to see me, grandmother?”

Radha shrugged, “I do not know, Vrishketu. I can guess that they too are coming to terms with how to face you. They had not planned on revealing the truth to you so early. But tell me, how did you find out?”

Vrishketu laughed and related the whole story of his meeting with her son. By the end of it, the grandmother was in tears, “My son… my Radheya is finally at peace. Thank you, Vrishketu. Accept an old woman’s gratitude for this gift.”

They embraced and basked in the sun’s warmth together.


	22. To Challenge a King

Vrishketu found himself staring at the massive doors and hesitated. He had come to the royal chambers unannounced and unexpected. While most of the court now treated him a newfound deference, the continued avoidance of the royal family troubled him. So, he had decided to confront them himself.

The sentry returned from inside, “I am told the king is busy with urgent matters. They cannot see you, capt…Prince.” Most of his men were used to addressing him as captain and he insisted they do so still. A rank he had earned held far more importance to him than one given to him by being related to the king.

Again, his request for an audience with the royal family had been denied.

He tried one final move. He shouted at the top of his lungs, “I, Vrishketu, Son of Karna, seek an audience with the king!”, repeatedly for a short while.

The sentries stood surprised at this. He shrugged and smiled, “The King refused to see me, not hear me.”

The doors suddenly opened and courtiers filed out along with the sentries. Obviously, the king had asked for privacy of court. The last leaving sentry told him he was expected inside.

He approached the chambers carefully. As he strode in, he saw the five Pandavas and the queens of Kuru clan standing to meet him. All of them held a lowered gaze, unable to speak. He recognized the familiar fount of emotions still held back.

It was Uttara who first approached him with Parakshit in her arms. She touched his feet and embraced him, “Dearest brother, you took a blade meant for my son. You bore incredible pain for the descendant of your enemies. I am forever indebted to you“ She thanked him profusely until Vrishketu blushed and took his nephew into his own arms. The infant screamed with delight.

The queens too approached and gave him blessings. It was only until Queen Kunti came forward that a scowl rose on Vrishketu’s face. She sensed his hesitance and stopped in her tracks, head bowed in shame.

Seeing his reaction to their mother, it was Yudhishtir who spoke, “We have wronged you and your family greatly, Vrishketu. I know Mother Kunti has sinned against Eldest. We submit ourselves to your justice. If you want our lives in exchange, so be it!”

Vrishketu, however, kept his steely gaze on Kunti, “I lost my mother, my father, my brothers because of you, Queen Mother. No, I will not accept you as Grandmother. It would be an insult to Mother Radha. Perhaps I will seek your blessings one day, but that day is not today.”

“I will wait for that day until my last breath, grandson. I thank you, Vrishketu. You have given me a new reason to live”, cried Kunti.

Vrishketu bowed to her and addressed the five Pandavas, “My father spared your lives, sons of Kunti. My father took an arrow for you, Gurudev Arjun. Not just out of some promise given in charity. But all because of a single moment of love and acceptance that your mother granted him. I will not dishonor his sacrifice by asking your lives.”

Vrishketu turned his scowl into a smile, “My justice is this, uncle: I want the same love and acceptance that I lost with deaths of my kin. I never want to feel that pain ever again. Give me a mother’s tenderness. Give me a father’s guidance. Give me the happiness of a family.”

The last words resonated as the Pandavas rushed to embrace him. Tears, held back for years, ran freely from everyone’s eyes. There was no more need for words.


	23. To Forge a New World

The Pandavas threw great feasts and games to mark the official acceptance of their nephew and the resumption of the Sacred Horse Ritual. Hymns and incense once again filled the air.

It was the last day of the ritual and Vrishketu was having a busy day. Much to his new family’s protests, he had resumed his old duties as city captain. He had refused the royal titles and crowns instead preferring his old post that he had earned. While disappointed, the Pandavas had come to respect his wishes. Soon, a messenger came up to him with a summons from his Teacher.

Giving some quick instructions to his subordinates, he set out towards the grove as per the message. He found only Lord Krishna in the grove, playing his flute. His mind relaxed to the melody emanating around him but fought to keep his senses intact.

“Come, Vrishketu. You’ll forgive my deception but it was I who summoned you. But may we speak for a moment?”  
Vrishketu was stunned at the sudden invitation from the Avatar himself. Realizing his mouth was still openly gaping, he gathered himself and sought Vasudev’s blessings.

“And what blessing would the son of Karna like?”, asked Vasudev with his unique calm gaze.

Vrishketu pondered for a moment and said, “My Lord, when my time comes, let me die with even half as much as dignity as my father had when he died. If so, I would count myself as a blessed man!”

Vasudev was greatly pleased, “You have asked to be an instrument of Dharma, child, for that is who your father truly was in the end. And an instrument needs strength to do its work. So be it!” Keshav raised a glowing finger and place it at Vrishketu’s temple.

Knowledge flooded his mind. He could see the power hidden in the smallest particle of the world. He could make the skies rain, the earth quake and burn legions with a single arrow. The power to unmake entire worlds coursed through him. Every fiber of his being radiated with a strength he never knew even existed. He realized he had been given the power of the greatest celestial weapons in the universe. 

“Rise an Atimaharathi, Vrishketu, son of Karna! Use this power wisely in service of dharma. Pray that you never have to use it in battle.”, Keshav pronounced loudly and raised him to an embrace.

Vrishketu was at a loss for words and only bowed in reverence.

The Avatar continued, “My time is coming to an end, child. The Pandavas too will soon pass from this world one day. The warlike ways of the kshatriya have no place in the new age of Kaliyuga. So I ask that you must never teach them to another. I have given you these tools to forge a new world where such powers are never used again. A world where no brother should slay a brother. A world where no Avatar need come down to Earth to cleanse the world anew.”


	24. A New World

In the halls of Indraprastha, a child played among the statues of gods and heroes of old. An old woman ran behind him pretending not to notice him. She turned around to see her grandson standing before the last statue in the hall, staring at it in awe.

She walked up to him and placed a palm on his head, tossing his hair in play. “What is it, Janamejaya? What is the matter?”, she asked, already knowing the reason for the infant’s curiosity.

All the other statues in the hall highlighted their greatest deeds. But this last one always perplexed those who saw it. It neither showed a man tearing off his own armor nor firing celestial arrows. It showed a man shielding a child while a blade tore through his hand. It was a surprise to all that it was this edifice that was always the first to be honored by the woman who stood before it on any occasion.

“Grandmother Uttara, you promised you would tell me the story behind this statue. Please tell me, grandomother…please!”, asked Janamejaya with a pleading voice.

Uttara smiled and nodded, “The story behind this man is very dear to me, child. He risked his own life to protect the lineage of his enemies. He sacrificed his own rights to the throne to never let a feud poison his family again. Listen closely and listen well, child.

“Hear the Life and Truth of Vrishketu, Disciple to Lord Krishna, Guru to King Parakshit, General of the Kuru Armies and the Last Mortal to wield the Celestial Weapons. Hear the tale of Vrishketu, true son of Karna”


End file.
